


A Mother's (un)Love

by UkieS



Series: Zine Pieces [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Dayak is mentioned, Gen, I wrote it before s8 but nothing really conflicts so, If anything s8 validated most of it, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-25 22:22:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18172217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UkieS/pseuds/UkieS
Summary: Lotor laments on a time long passed; and on a bond he never truly had.My piece for the Lotor fanzine!





	A Mother's (un)Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is my piece for the Lotor zine, The Good the Bad and the Beautiful! I was assigned to write a piece for the angst section, my absolute favorite to write!
> 
> You can check out the blog [here!](https://lotor-zine-2018.tumblr.com/)

I was told I never had a mother.

 

Accounts of her varied depending on who you asked. Most said she had died during childbirth, others thought it was funny to tell me she took her own life at the mere sight of my face. Some went a more... fantastical route, weaving tales of how she never existed to begin with. How I simply spawned into reality, like some "child of the void".

 

My father kept a consistent story, informing me that she had passed not long after I was born. Now, in a way, I realize he wasn't truly wrong.

 

When I was young I believed Dayak was the closest I'd feel to having a mother. Not knowing any better I figured she had taken up the mantle quite well. She was informative yet disciplinary, and put more effort into raising me than my father ever did. I grew to appreciate her over time, but even as an adolescent I knew there was something missing that she never gave me. With no prior knowledge or point of reference, I assumed this was the norm.

 

The most my father ever told me about her was her name - Honerva. I'd spent hours in my chamber running her name over my tongue, finding an odd comfort in the syllables. My mind often wandered into complex fantasies, wondering what kind of woman she was.

 

It wasn't until I had gotten older that I learned her true fate. I'd let my curiosity get the better of me as I wandered in forbidden rooms. I was always told my inquisitive nature would be my downfall. Despite the warnings, I never listened. Was it just my attempt at being a rebellious youth, or did I subconsciously know there was more to it than I was being told?

 

During one of my escapades I found myself in the ship's hold. To my knowledge it was a section the crew did not frequent, which only piqued my interest. For the most part it seemed relatively empty, save for rusted weaponry and broken tools that had clearly outlived their use. The objects were hastily strewn around the room with no clear reasoning. Tidiness was very much not an issue down here. Behind the thick layers of dust and grime, however, I found a door. It’s surface was old and past its prime yet still functional, unlike the rest of the ship.

 

Getting it to open was tricky, layered with encryptions not meant to be broken. The security system suggested it held secrets not meant to be learned by unwanted personnel who were unlucky enough to stumble upon it. It took several days to find a workaround. The fact that I had to keep my discovery hidden only slowed my advancement, which made it that much more satisfying when I got the door to bend to my will.

 

I still remember the feeling of seeing it slide open. Something in me knew that whatever I found behind the door would be beneficial, whether it gave me forbidden knowledge of the Empire, or an armory of weapons not seen by the public. I soon learned it to be the former.

 

I gazed into the doorway with what I would assume could be portrayed as “ _ childlike wonder _ ”. I stood in a dark hall illuminated by strips of violet light that led directly to its center. I was unsure of the point of this room until my eyes started to adjust to the dim lighting.

 

Blinking repeatedly I started to notice the hall was not comprised of flat walls. Instead several levels of shelves lined them, with each far from empty. Jarred specimens and half finished science experiments were displayed, all converging towards the middle. It seemed as though the higher the importance of the object, the closer it was to the inner room.

 

Directly in the center lay a book which I was drawn to the second my eyes lay upon it. The pages were yellowed and frail, its age clearly taking a toll. The book seemed to be about something I wasn't particularly knowledgeable on, but a repeated phrase on the book’s topic stuck out to me.

 

It was about alchemy.

 

_ Altean _ alchemy.

 

My mind raced with questions as to why a book like this, from a long-extinct race, would be here on my father's ship. Exploring the shelves lining the center I found even more suspicious artifacts. A preserved juniberry flower that I recognized from my studies to be from the long destroyed Altea, a Galran ceremonial headpiece - only to be worn by brides of high status, and a… baby's blanket. 

Whoever owned this room clearly had ties to Altea, whether it be by ancestry or just intrigue. And, based purely on influence, possibly a family. Then again, the objects may be strictly collectible, and not belong to the room's owner.

 

Just as I went to turn down a second hall something on one of the lower shelves caught my eye. A holographic image, with a single picture stored on its hard drive. One of my father and I, along with a third woman I did not recognise - an Altean.Staring at her face I began to recognize some of her features. The pointed chin, wispy hair- little things I felt I've seen before.

 

She looked dangerously similar to Zarkon's witch.

 

I couldn't fathom why she would be placed next to the two of us, and why my father looked almost  _ blissful _ . This picture was from a time clearly lost, one that I could not recall despite being alive.

 

My father's hand on her hip brought my brain to a realization, one in which I sometimes regret, all the evidence falling into place simultaneously.

 

That witch is my mother.

 

My mother is alive. Honerva is alive and she'd abandoned me, changed her face and name in order to hide. Left me to the mercy of my father and his anger.

 

My mother is alive and she's on this very ship.

 

My mother is alive and she's spoken to me with the same coldness as she would a prisoner.

 

I dropped the device with no desire to conceal my rummaging and stormed to my chambers. I'd been forgotten and unloved for so long. At one point in my childhood I believed I wouldn't need a mother’s coddling, that it would only make me weak. Upon discovery of my mother's true identity, I realized how lonely I'd truly been all these decaphoebs.

 

Through repeated investigations I'd learned of her dabbles in quintessence, her obsession with power and how she'd orchestrated the war with my father. How she'd led to the destruction of her own kind - of  _ our _ kind. 

From that point on I'd vowed to reverse what she had done. I'd do  _ anything _ to preserve the last of the Altean race.

 

My cause was noble, but my execution merely became the overexaggerated tantrum of a neglected child trying to rebel in any way he saw fit.

 

Perhaps it was the maternal figure in my life - or lack thereof - that led me down this path. Maybe if she had been the nurturing mother I subconsciously yearned for, I would've grown into a different set of morals, or possibly pursued a different path in life. 

 

And yet, here I lay in a broken ship, surrounded by raw, pulsating quintessence, that I realize what it was she truly left me for. The mere essence flowing through my veins is almost euphoric, the fact that I had just lost a fight with Voltron in the far reaches of my mind. There was nothing I could focus on other than the power flowing through me and the blinding light flowing into the cockpit. 

 

Here in the quintessence field, I've made peace with what she'd done to me. Here, I realized she didn't leave me for any one personal reason. The pull of quintessence is all too powerful, wrapping her fingers around your mind until she corrupts you. 

 

I've befallen the same fate as my mother, though this time it's driven me to my demise. I wish I’d understood her sooner.

 

No matter, it's all too late now. 

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/xUkieS) and [Tumblr](https://xukies.tumblr.com/) !


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